


ammunition

by eatcops



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Depression, Established Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, M/M, Ten Years Later, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 15:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatcops/pseuds/eatcops
Summary: Too often, Prompto slipped into a depression he hadn’t known since he was a child. He would curl up in his bed and ignore all phone calls, stay under his blanket until someone came into his apartment and physically pulled him out of it. Usually it was Gladio, and usually it ended in Prompto screaming and crying and pushing him away. Gladio yelled back at him once, and they both fell to the floor in a heap, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. There were few times where Prompto had seen Gladio cry, and almost all of them had happened in that decade, that time where Noct was gone, and they just had to sit and wait, something neither of them were good at.





	ammunition

**Author's Note:**

> i seem to only be able to write angst :,) i'm trying. this isn't that good, but it's something else i've been wanting to explore for a while

Prompto wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t. He wasn’t thinking when he reared his fist back, or when he slammed it into the random man’s face, or when he shoved Ignis away when he tried to help. He wasn’t thinking when he stormed off to the shadowed, hidden alleys that those who were shunned kept to, and he wasn’t thinking when he let himself get caught in the middle of yet another fistfight. He wasn’t thinking when he came back to Ignis’s apartment, bloodied and bruised and crying silently. His cries turned into wails when Ignis slowly, carefully,  _ gently  _ hugged him, and then everything came crashing back. Noct was gone, he was  _ gone,  _ he was  _ GONE,  _ he was disappeared, it had been  _ ten years,  _ there was no coming back. He gripped Ignis’s shirt for what felt like hours, sobbing into his shoulder and letting pathetic whimpers slip past his lips. He swore he felt Ignis’s tears on his own shoulder, but didn’t mention it. 

There were times where Ignis would come around the corner, eyes puffy and red, and they’d make eye contact. Neither of them talked about those times. The one time he had caught Gladio’s tears, he had been shoved out of the room and told to get groceries. None of them were at the top of their game.  _ Their game  _ had always been to protect Noct. Ignis, since he was a child, Gladio, since he was a boy, and Prompto, since high school. He had accepted long before they left that he would likely never have the same type of bond with Noct as Ignis did, but Ignis would never have the type of bond that  _ they  _ had. 

Too often, Prompto slipped into a depression he hadn’t known since he was a child. He would curl up in his bed and ignore all phone calls, stay under his blanket until someone came into his apartment and physically pulled him out of it. Usually it was Gladio, and usually it ended in Prompto screaming and crying and pushing him away. Gladio yelled back at him once, and they both fell to the floor in a heap, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. There were few times where Prompto had seen Gladio cry, and almost all of them had happened in that decade, that time where Noct was  _ gone,  _ and they just had to  _ sit  _ and  _ wait,  _ something neither of them were good at. 

Prompto’s eyes cracked open on Tuesday. He looked blankly around the room, lit by some candles in the corner that were dripping wax onto the stained wooden boxes below. He wondered, for a moment, what time it was supposed to be. Midnight? Noon? Five in the afternoon? It didn’t matter. He turned back over to fall asleep, but was interrupted by his front door opening. It was slightly worrying that his heart didn’t even beat a fraction faster. He heard Gladio’s heavy footsteps, followed by Ignis hissing at him to walk lighter, and he sighed. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen to them drone at him, especially after  _ just  _ waking up.

“…Cindy. She wants to show us something, something about… lights? I think, I’m not sure. I figured we should invite him, maybe get him something for his birthday.”  _ That  _ piqued Prompto’s interest. He shuffled again and closed his eyes when his bedroom door creaked open. “He’s asleep.”

“Naw.” Gladio stepped forward, the floor creaking heavily under him, and slammed his hand down on Prompto’s ass. Prompto yelped and scrambled up, frowning up at Gladio’s grin as he rubbed at the now tender skin. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We got shit to do, and you’re comin’ with us.” Prompto glared even harder. Sure, seeing Cindy would be great, and the thought of getting something for his birthday (something he had long forgotten about) seemed appealing, but  _ getting up  _ and  _ leaving… _

Ignis sighed and kneeled down next to Prompto’s mattress. Prompto swallowed. Ignis’s hair fell just over his eyes in some part and was methodically slicked back in others. Despite having nothing to prove, he still kept himself as clean as possible. Prompto shuffled uncomfortably under his unwavering, milky gaze. “You don’t  _ have  _ to come, but it would be nice if you did. Three is better than two,” he said.  _ And four’s better than three,  _ Prompto didn’t add. “If you wish to come, speak now. We’re leaving after we leave your apartment.” Prompto whined, not unlike a child, and kicked his legs a little before groaning loudly.

_ “Fine.”  _

Ignis smiled, pleased, and patted Prompto’s knee. “Excellent. You’ll meet us in the kitchen?” Prompto made an affirmative noise. “All right. Do you want me to whip something up for you?” Prompto shook his head. Ignis nodded slowly at the silence and clicked his tongue as he stood, resting his his hand on the small of his back. Gladio’s hand replaced his quietly, and there was a soft exchange that Prompto desperately wished he had been a part of. 

They left, Ignis having to come back and close the door quietly due to Gladio’s negligence to do so, and then Prompto was wrapped in silence. He nearly let himself slip back under the covers, back under the waves of sleep, but instead shoved himself up off of the floor. He swayed in place for a moment, eyes closed, and glanced at the candles. One of them had been blown out, perhaps by Gladio. He went to it and lit it again to re-illuminate the corner, bathing it in a flickering, gentle orange glow. He trudged across the room to the bin with his clothes in it, and slowly got himself dressed. He started with his jeans, buttoning them too meticulously, making sure to take his sweet ass time as he smoothed out a wrinkle. 

Once he was properly clothed, he padded over to the door and opened it slowly, only to hear Ignis and Gladio murmuring from down the hall. “He ain’t a kid, Iggs. You don’t gotta coddle him.”

“I’m  _ not.  _ I am making sure he keeps himself safe. Don’t think that I don’t see you watching him like a hawk whenever we’re out.” Gladio opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. “Exactly.” Ignis’s hand slid up Gladio’s face to cup his cheek. “I know he isn’t a child, but he’s still Prompto. I will protect him until the end of my days. I know you have vowed to do the same. It’s the same promise we made to Noct, and I have no plans to abandon it. If  _ you  _ do—”

“I  _ don’t.” _

“I know that, but if you  _ do,”  _ Ignis’s hand faltered for a moment, “I don’t know what I’d do, actually.” 

Prompto’s heart tightened when Gladio shook his head and pulled Ignis into a hug. “I wouldn’t do that to him, or to you. You know that.” Ignis nodded. His hands were trembling a bit as he wrapped his arms around Gladio’s waist. It was one of the only times Prompto had seen him so vulnerable, and for the first time, he noticed how  _ exhausted  _ both of them looked. 

They both had deep, dark bags under their eyes, and Ignis’s hair had started to grey in places. Gladio’s dark hands were scarred and calloused to shit, barely recognisable as the same hands that were strong, but still soft only ten years before. Prompto suddenly felt less self conscious about his own state. He took a shaky breath before clearing his throat. Gladio looked over at him. “Do you want me to…?”

“No,” Ignis said before he could finish. He didn’t pull away from Gladio, but instead rested his cheek on his husband’s shoulder. Gladio’s hands started to rub gentle circles on Ignis’s back. Prompto’s stomach twisted in a way he wasn’t sure how to identify. Jealousy? Possibly. Envy? Maybe. “Do you want to drive?”

Gladio’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and he laughed loudly. “You’re tellin’  _ Prompto  _ to drive? Shit, babe, I thought  _ I  _ was the one goin’ crazy.”

“Hey! I drive—I drive fine! I’ve gotten better! It’s passable! You—” Ignis started to laugh. It was an  _ emotional  _ laugh, not one that they shared when he told a stupid joke or when they saw a funny looking animal on their journey. His cheeks and ears reddened as his laugh became louder, shaking Prompto to his core and causing him to start giggling along. 

“Six, you—you sound like Noct when he got his license.”

Prompto offered his best impression of Noct as he laughed out,  _ “‘Specs, I can drive! I promise I won’t crash the car this time!’”  _ Gladio started chortling, loud hoots and cracks of laughter filling the kitchen. They all stayed there for only Bahamut knew how long, just laughing at the simple memory. 

Prompto didn’t realise that they had all started to cry until Ignis let loose a sob.

* * *

_ PROMPTO!”  _ Gladio’s voice was rough, and the  _ swoosh!  _ of his sword was too close for comfort. Prompto whipped around, trembling hands holding his handgun, finger ready, eyes sharp—“Prompto?” Gladio’s voice was soft, then. There was no sword, no monster, no blood. Nothing. A large, warm hand rested on top of Prompto’s. “You sure you doin’ okay? You ain’t lookin’ so good.”

Prompto nodded vigorously. “I know. I know, uh. I’m fine. Sorry, I thought…” he looked around again, and his gun vanished in a blue mist, “I thought I saw something. Sorry.” Gladio took his hand back and spared a glance at the convenience store. Ignis was brushing his fingers over labels, chatting so  _ naturally  _ with the clerk. “I didn’t think he’d be so… normal. After, you know.” Prompto gestured vaguely at his face, and Gladio shrugged.

“I was worried, too, but it’s Iggs. He wouldn’t let losin’ all his arms and legs prevent him from protectin’ our asses. Too damn kind for his own good.” Prompto pretended to not notice Gladio rubbing at his wedding band. “He don’t give himself enough credit. Ain’t nothin’ that man won’t do for his family.”

_ Family.  _ It echoed in Prompto’s head. Was he part of Ignis’s family? What constituted as family? Was it Noct who taught him that, or the other way around? Or maybe Gladio? Gladio was always good with his sister, rough only when he needed to be, when she was trying to get herself into trouble. Prompto’s extent of family had been a note on the table and some food until he met Noct. His heart tightened, but he let a small smile creep onto his face. “Yeah. I mean,” he bumped Gladio’s shoulder and laughed, “he’s got a great one, right?”

Gladio hummed and leaned against their rental. It was  _ nothing  _ like the Regalia, smelled a little too much like alcohol and cleaner, but it worked. It was pretty enough. It was higher from the ground than the Regalia had been, high enough that Prompto had to step up into it and grab a handle. Ignis and Gladio had no problem with it, and he hated them for it. “You’re right. You know, I never, uh. I’ve never been good at sayin’ shit, just ask my husband, but—you know that’s you, too, right? Like, you’re our family.” Prompto shivered at how serious his tone was. “You can’t forget that. God knows I would’a up and gone if you weren’t.”

Prompto smiled a little. “Yeah. I know. Probably would’ve crushed my head like a can.”

“Well, no… well… actually… well, naw, I don’t… well…”

“Yeah,” they said at the same time.

“What are we celebrating?” Ignis’s voice made both of them nearly jump out of their skin.

Gladio groaned and rubbed his hands down his face, leaning back again to whine. “Shit, Iggs, you can’t keep fuckin’ doin’ that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Ignis smiled and pressed his lips gingerly to Gladio’s cheek. “No, I’m not. I’ve fed you too well for that. Apologies for making us stop again, but I wanted to grab something for Cindy.” He shook the plastic back gripped loosely between his fingers. “Cookie dough.” 

They all clambered into the car after that, Prompto’s hands trembling a bit as he put them on the steering wheel. He couldn’t exactly place why, but his heart was thudding against his chest as they made their way to Hammerhead, creeping closer and closer to the garage-turned-outpost through the darkness. Daemons were prowling around the woods, and Prompto’s heart jumped every time he heard a roar, but he didn’t stop once. 

Gladio and Ignis took charge in talking to Cindy while Prompto wandered around the parking lot, something the three of them had fallen into a habit of. It wasn’t often that Prompto was able to just…  _ breathe  _ the air. The ash falling around him squeezed his lungs uncomfortably, but he still felt… free. He wasn’t held back by harsh walls and men yelling, nor Ignis or Gladio. 

He didn’t hear the purring of a truck rolling into the lot until the door slammed closed. He turned around slowly, expecting to see more hunters, but—

“Noct.” His name was barely a ghost on Prompto’s lips. “Noct,” he repeated. “Noct!  _ Noct!”  _ His voice cracked, and he started laughing when Noct whipped around. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as they made eye contact, and he let out a sob. Noct was there in an instant, arms squeezed around Prompto while the blue glow by Ignis and Gladio faded into nothing. “You—You’re—You came back—”

“Yeah,” Noct whispered. Prompto let out another sob, one that echoed through the lot and made everyone turn to stare at them. Noct’s beard scratched uncomfortably against his forehead, but he paid it no mind. “Prom. Prompto. Please don’t cry, shit, how… shit, come on,  _ I’m _ gonna cry—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Prompto mumbled. He tightened his fists in Noct’s shirt. “I’ve—fuck. Fuck, are you real? Please tell me you’re real.” He nearly screamed when Noct pulled back, he had to fight the urge to pull him in again, but melted when Noct’s hands cupped his cheeks. He whimpered when their eyes met once more, and he swore that he saw the Six when Noct’s lips met his. 

He wrapped his arms around Noct’s neck to pull him closer, one hand tangling in his best friend’s hair. He thought, in that moment, that the wait had been worth it. Ten years of darkness, ten years of depression, ten years of being  _ empty— _ it had all led up to that moment. He tried to press further, part Noct’s lips, tried to do anything in his power to get  _ more,  _ but Noct pulled away. “Let me breathe, Prom,” he panted.

Prompto didn’t let go of him all night. 

He didn’t let go until the very end, when Noct walked up those stairs, head high and hands calm.

He didn’t let go until Noct was gone.


End file.
